Run For Your Life
by zgirl21
Summary: The Joker gets an offer he just can't refuse...Harley/Joker AU. Set during The Dark Knight.
1. Run For Your Life

**A/N--Ok, this is my first TDK fanfic so I'm just taking this as I go. The Joker in this is based on Heath Ledger's out of this world portrayal (R.I.P Heath). **

**I suppose I need to say right off the bat that I know a little something about domestic violence (I won't go into details here, but you'll probably get a good idea from this story). If I offend anyone, that is most definitely not the intention of this and I apologize in advance if it does. In no way do I advocate domestic violence or violence in general, but to be honest, if I was in Harley's situation in this story, I'm not sure that I would act any differently. **

**I'm not really sure where the idea for this story came about but I've been reading a lot of Harley/Joker fanfics, and while I've been enjoying every one, I started wondering what an AU version of their story might look like, especially set in Nolanverse. So when I thought of this situation, the possibilities for where this could go were just too tempting to ignore (especially since I've never written anything like this before). **

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of this, so please don't sue. **

**As always, read and review!!**

**_Run For Your Life_**

Well I'd rather see you dead, little girl  
Than to be with another man  
You better keep your head, little girl  
Of I won't know where I am

You better run for your life if  
you can, little girl  
Hide your head in the sand little girl  
Catch you with another man  
That's the end little girl.

--The Beatles

Chapter One

He was drinking again. He hadn't come home yet and when he did, she knew it was just better if she didn't struggle. There was no arguing or fighting with him; the funny thing was, it didn't matter if he was drunk or sober. He could always find something to use against her, something to justify his actions, something to keep his conscience at bay.

Ever since…it….had happened, things had only gotten worse. The yelling, the fighting, the slapping, the bruising, the broken ribs, the black eyes…and there was no end in sight. Sure, he had promised he would change. That he would find a way to learn how to be better for her and to her but she knew it was just another one lie. Their entire relationship had been founded and nurtured on nothing but lies.

Their love story, if one could even call it that, had begun how any other fairy tale might. Boy and girl meet cute, boy asks girl out, girl gets her hopes up, girl thinks that boy is the one, boy and girl move in together, boy gets girl pregnant…it could have been taken straight from Disney. Then reality set in sometime between moving in together and…it…and life had never been the same since. She couldn't go anywhere or do anything with his permission. Not only did he watch her like a hawk, but he had all his goons watching her as well, waiting for one misstep, waiting for one interaction with the opposite sex that would give him an excuse.

It had gotten worse after that damned Batman had shown up. Now the city wasn't quite what it used to be and it had gotten harder and harder to get away with the same old business as before. She had played the part of supportive girlfriend and had tried to understand, to empathize with his predicament. All things considered, she really did understand where his tension came from, that there was possible jail time on the line with every move he made and she had done everything she could to prove to him that she understood. But the misunderstandings surfaced when he began to take out his anger and frustration on her.

It had started with fighting. That she could handle, and now, in retrospect, she would much rather have the fighting and the verbal attacks than the physical ones. Their fights were most often provoked right when he came home for the night. The dishes weren't done, dinner hadn't been made, or something to that degree would easily set him off. At first, she had been patient, thinking that it was just a byproduct of the stress he was under. But then, as the verbal attacks gave way to physical beatings, she realized with horrible clarity that stress was not to blame for his behavior.

The memory of that first night he had beat her was forever seared into her memory, held tight within and squeezing the life out of her like a vice. Ironically enough, that night was also the first night he had been taken into custody by Gotham's finest. The event had had such an impact on him that when he returned home after being released on bail, he immediately proceeded to beat her senseless. The attack had been so forceful, so devastating to both her body and mind that her bed was her only solace for nearly a week.

Oh, yes she had tried to find help. Friends and family had spurned her allegations not only out of fear for their own lives but because they had long warned her of even starting a relationship with him in the first place. Not only was he more than fifteen years her senior, but he was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone could have possibly imagined. She could scarcely still believe it…rejected by the people who were supposed to love and protect her. She was sure that he had threatened everyone around her to silence and she knew that his men would never aid in his arrest, even if it was something this hideous. So she had turned to Gotham City Police and the best they could offer her was a restraining order due to 'lack of evidence', which, for the record, had never truly been enforced. Bigger fish to fry, she guessed.

It had been all downhill from there. No where to run and no one to turn to. Ever since…it…had happened, she had begun plotting some sort of escape. Harley Quinzel was through with being his punching bag.

What kind of escape didn't matter, she just need to get out and get out as quickly as possible. However, she knew that a simple breakup would never stick. She had tried that before. The first time he had pleaded with her, begging her to stay, that he would change, that he would get help, that he would stop drinking, and showered her with gifts. And she had believed him. The next time, he was not as repentant and she had had the bruises and two broken ribs to prove it.

His threats to her that night were crystal clear: "If you leave me, if I even see you think about being with someone else, I'll kill you. I'll kill you because I love you as much as I do, baby. I couldn't take it…if you were with someone else, I'd rather see you six feet under. You know how much I love you…you know how much it hurts me to hurt you, but you need to learn that you're mine…forever, baby…forever."

The only way to be free of him was to kill him.

She had decided that after…it…had happened. That was by far the last straw and the most devastating blow to her he had ever dealt her. There would be no running away. No disappearing and starting a new life somewhere else. Where ever she went, he would find her and kill her. She would just have to beat him to the punch and kill him first.

This decision led her to more complications. Although it was by far the only resolution that would not only free her but give her peace, the problem was how to make it happen and not end up in jail or killed in turn herself. She did not have the vast experience in the art of murdering like he or any of his goons did. And she didn't have a gun nor did she have access to any of his because he was the only one who knew the code to his safe. Despite this, she knew that it would be next to impossible to do it herself because his goons would put the pieces together almost immediately. They not only knew of the nature of her relationship with their boss but they were extremely loyal as well. And she couldn't hire anyone to do it for her because she didn't have any money that was actually hers. This left her with quite the predicament.

She needed someone who didn't care about money and who wasn't afraid of Salvatore Maroni. Where in the world would she find someone who met both requirements?

Pent up frustration and a near resignation to her fate led her flop down on one of his plush Italian couches that she resented so much. Maybe that was it. Maybe she didn't have any hope left that she could find a way. Maybe he had done too much damage that she wouldn't be able to actually leave him for fear of what picking up the pieces would be like. Maybe there were no other options.

And then, like some demented twist of fate or warped divine intervention, she flipped on the news. There, right before her eyes was her answer. Practically surrounded by an enflamed mountain of cash, clad in emerald and violet, with frighteningly, almost chaotically smeared war paint, stood the only person on earth who could help her.


	2. Madwoman

**A/N--Thanks to my reviewers!! It really means a lot...it's definitely true what other people have said on this site, reviews definitely keep you going. **

_**Run For Your Life**_

Chapter Two

_There is a pleasure, to be sure, that none which madmen know. _–John Dryden

She was insane. There was no way this was going to work. There was no way she would even be able to find him let alone talk him into what now seemed equally insane. She had no idea who or what she would be dealing with, of that much she was certain. She had a sneaking suspicion, given everything she had seen on TV, that he might have better things to do anyway than dispose of an abusive boyfriend for someone he didn't even know. She expected that he would simply laugh in her face or even worse, wave her off without even a 'no' for an answer.

Maybe, if she was lucky enough to find him and speak with him, he would simply just save them both time and put her out of her misery. At this point, she was already living a fate worse than death that death in itself, especially at the hands of someone other than her assailant, would be a blessing. She shuddered at the thought that it had come to this. She was praying that if a psycho serial-killer dressed as a demented clown wouldn't help her, that he would at least have the decency to kill her. How much lower could she possibly sink?

Still, despite the fact that it wasn't going to work, she didn't see what other choices she had. She had to try.

The Joker, as he was called, had created a media firestorm around himself. An agent of chaos, he had called himself, the deliverer of a society in need of embracing its true self. He was terrifying and completely unpredictable and absolutely capable of doing whatever was in his demented mind but he was the only one fearless enough to help her. In fact, he didn't seem to be afraid of anything at all, as if he didn't care even if he lived or died.

But how to convince him? Given everything she had witnessed on TV and read in the paper, the last thing he would be interested in doing was aiding a battered mob boss' girlfriend. He seemed to care little for anyone or anything, which didn't necessarily help nor hurt her because although he probably wouldn't think twice before taking a life, it didn't mean he would do it if it meant making someone else's life better or easier, not to mention happier. He didn't seem like that kind of a clown.

She had no idea what she could offer in return for his…services…or what she could possibly say that might convince him. She knew it was best to just be straightforward and tell him everything, even if it meant saying the one thing she had never said aloud to anyone. If there was even the slightest chance that it could convince him, she would do it. Her personal demons and the pain, both physical and mental, that she hadn't even begun to recover from, could be enough but she wasn't quite sure. It probably wouldn't matter anyway. He seemed sadistic enough to listen to her story, to revel in her pain and heartache, and then cast her away after hearing all the sordid, gory details.

As the news came on for the evening, she realized that finding him might not be as difficult as she thought. He was practically begging to be caught not only by the police but by Batman as well. It was as if he wanted a confrontation. Like that was the plan all along. All she had to do was find a way to sneak in after the smoke had cleared in one of his seemingly countless acts of terrorism and anarchy. She could act like an innocent bystander and wait for the perfect opportunity. What harm could it do? It wasn't as if the life she was living now was any better than all the ways her encounter with the Joker could end badly.

* * *

The crowd had just begun to clear as Harley arrived on the scene. She looked frantically around and swore under her breath as she realized that she had been too late. She had missed him every single time. Maybe it wasn't going to be as simple as she thought.

This particular time the Joker had robbed another mob bank. From what she gathered from the onlookers around her, he had stolen every penny from the mob's safe. This did not bode well for her when she returned home.

Out of sheer desperation, she weaved in and out of the people surrounding the mess that used to be a major Gotham bank. Smoke and crumbling concrete where everywhere but there was no sign of the man that could potentially be her savior. What had she been thinking? That she could waltz in and talk to him while the police waited patiently outside? That he wouldn't escape as soon as he could? Even worse, she was starting to think that her plan to have Salvatore killed wasn't going to work either.

She was so stupid. So stupid to think she had even had a chance in hell. That she could count on an unpredictable lunatic who was painted up like every child's nightmare. She couldn't count on anybody. That was the most disturbing thing of all. Psychotic serial killers…now people like that, like the Joker, could be counted on to be unreliable. But family? Friends? They were supposed to be the ones who would always be there, through thick and thin. Through hell and high water. Well, hell had come, but friends and family were no where to be found.

She was alone. She had no one.

As the crowd began to clear out since it was clear that all the action was long over with, a familiar Mercedes came into view. Its menacing white glare seemed to beckon to her, to will her to come closer and she knew if she didn't obey, and quickly, she would only pay later. As she grew nearer to the car, a window rolled down, revealing the furious face of her tormentor.

"Harley!" He shouted venomously. "Get in the car. Right. Now."

She didn't hesitate. Within moments, she was huddled to the edge of the backseat, her face pressed against the window. She refused to make eye contact with him for fear of what she would see in his eyes. Sometimes, it was better not to know what he was planning to do to her. The element of surprise usually gave way to shock, which helped numb the pain.

She closed her eyes tightly as he began to speak in a hoarse whisper.

"What were you doing here? Harley…Harley…answer me. Look at me when I'm talking to you…don't make me ask you again."

She completely stop herself from shuddering compulsively at the sound and tone of his voice. She was certain she had a very pleasant evening to look forward to. When she finally met his eyes, she quickly conjured up a lie.

"I was trying to withdraw some money. But as I'm sure you noticed, the bank was closed."

He seemed to relax at that. "Well, then, the next time you need money, let me know. I don't want you running around Gotham on your own like that again, understand? What if something happened to you? Do you know what that would do to me?"

She nodded quickly and found the reprieve she was looking for in his expression. She could only hope but maybe tonight he would leave her alone.

"Now, we need to get home. I have a very important meeting there tonight. You will stay in the bedroom. I'd better not see or hear you. Do you understand?"

She nodded again and this time, was met with a cold stare.

"This is no joke, Harley. The future of the business depends on this meeting. If you disrupt it in any way, I won't hesitate to punish you."

The only response she could manage to his imminent threat was a slight nod.

With nothing else left to say, they rode in silence back to the penthouse.

* * *

Harley paced around the bedroom like a prisoner who was slowly going insane. Her cell was not one of padded walls or even iron bars but instead was a posh bedroom inside an expensive penthouse. She might as well be in a prison. The inmates were probably taken care of better there anyways, she thought to herself ruefully.

Although she knew the meeting had not yet begun, she had been stowed away in the bedroom for at least two hours now. He had threatened her yet again when he threw her in the bedroom and had given her a few brutal slaps for good measure. As soon as she was certain that she would be left alone, she switched on the TV and set the controls for the security camera inside the penthouse. She smiled to herself as she watched Salvatore pace around the kitchen, waiting for his business associates to arrive. It had been a small victory when she had discovered the security cameras but it was a victory nonetheless. Whenever he had a meeting at home, she always eavesdropped, not just to find out what was going on, but because it was a way to get back at him. To remind herself that she still had some fight left in her.

A movement across the screen caught her eye and she hurried over to observe the new development. Her eyebrows raised as several men entered the penthouse. It appeared as if the 'guests' had arrived.

As each one filtered in after another, she felt a twinge of familiarity creep through her. Their outfits, their mannerisms, the way they seemed to twitch with nervous anticipation…very much like the men she had seen on TV.

Before her next thought could even register in her brain, the man of the hour stepped through the door frame. He seemed to slither, snake-like, around the furniture and through the rooms as she watched with a strange mixture of shock, surprise, and terror. Within moments, he was standing directly in front of Salvatore and she leaned forward with new excitement because she could finally see him more clearly.

Although he was dressed in the same attire she had now become familiar with thanks to the media, there was something…indescribable about the experience of seeing him in her own home, in her own kitchen, speaking with her would-be executioner. The cameras seemed to blur the smearing of his war paint into a mash of eerie chaos and she couldn't stop herself from shuddering. The man scared the living daylights out of her…but still, here he was, by another demented twist of fate, and she had the opportunity she had been waiting weeks for.

She hadn't had to go looking for him after all. He had come to her.

Now all she had to do was to wait for the right moment and muster enough courage to open the bedroom door. She was positive that fate would take care of the rest. What did she have to lose anyway? If she was going to go down, better sooner rather than later. And she was determined to go out with guns blazing, kicking and screaming all the way down to hell's fiery gates.

**A/N--Major fireworks in the next chapter...read and review, please!!**


	3. Face Down

_**Run For Your Life**_

A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect  
Every action in this world will bear a consequence  
If you wait around forever you will surely drown  
I see what's going down.

I see the way you go and say you're right again,  
Say you're right again,  
Heed my lecture.

Do you feel like a man  
When you push her around?  
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?  
Well I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found.

Face down in the dirt  
She said, "This doesn't hurt"  
She said, "I finally had enough!"

--The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Chapter Three

All she had to do was wait for them to go into the kitchen. She could sneak in unnoticed and then that would be it. No going back. No second chances. It was now or never. Now or forever be condemned to a life that wasn't worth living anyway.

Her eyes glued themselves to the TV and she turned up the volume as loudly as possible without risk of being detected. Still, she could barely hear the conversation. Not that it particularly mattered to her what the meeting was about…she just needed to hear enough so she could seize the moment as quickly as it came. She knew she couldn't hesitate.

Without warning, the group of people convening in the living room stood and made their way toward the kitchen. Her heart began to pound wildly in her chest. This was it. She knew she would never get this chance again.

She slipped out of the bedroom as stealthily as she could and winced slightly as the creaked softly as she shut it behind her. She crept through the hallway and her eyes widened at the pile of weapons that laid out before her on a nearby table. Guns…a few grenades…and many, many blunt knives. Before she could think twice, she slid one of the knives into her palm as she cornered near the kitchen.

The hushed voices were becoming clearer as her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She was right outside…almost there…she leaned into the wall that separated her from the meeting's participants and listened intently. She immediately recognized many of the voices. Business associates that had frequented the penthouse numerous times…several of Salvatore's goons…all familiar. But the one that stood out to her, the unknown, was a voice that seemed to grate on one's ears yet held allure at the same time. It was otherworldly, as if the voice's owner was an incubus straight from the mouth of hell with the voice that the snake must have used to tempt Eve. Yet, there was something beneath the sinister cackle, something that bordered on the sarcastic, that gave way to both a sense of uneasiness and an urge to laugh.

She listened more closely now as the voices seemed to grow louder.

"Listen here," said Salvatore. "This has got to stop. How are we supposed to pay you? Do you really think stealing our money is going to influence us?"

The Joker didn't miss a beat. "Uh…yeah."

"I have plenty of money in banks all over the world. Go ahead then, take everything you want. I've got everything I could possibly need. It's time you held up your end of the bargain. We hired you over a month ago to kill Batman and still nothing."

"Or what? Ya gonna kill me?" He was laughing now. "Ooo…I'm shakin' in my boots, boys. You all really know how to strike fear in the hearts of mankind, you know that? Now…I understand that seeing your hard-earned cash being stolen from your very own banks is…difficult…for you. But you see the thing is…I'm not one to embark on anyone else's timeframe…you know what I'm saying?"

Another voice spoke up, this time one of the countless, albeit nameless members of the mob. "What do you want? We've already given you half of what we have. You burned that to a crisp. What kind of a person does that? You are insane. Just insane."

"No. I'm not. I'm not." was the now very serious response. "It's not about money. It's about…sending a message. I could give a rat's ass about money. Now you know it."

"What do you want?"

"Chaos. Destruction. Total anarchy. You're all just a small part of the bigger picture here. You've all got your heads buried in the sand…running for cover because of the big, bad bat. Just wait. Just you wai-t. You'll see. You'll all see."

"What is your plan then? To kill Batman?" This time, it was Salvatore addressing the madman.

Harley shuddered as the Joker let out a long, sinister roar of maniacal laughter.

She couldn't wait much longer. She realized there was probably not going to be an ideal time to disrupt the meeting and she figured it would be better for everyone involved if she broke in before things got too tense. Gripping the edge of the wall, she took a deep breath and launched herself into the hands of fate.

"What's my plan? You want to know my plan? Here it is boys, get ready for it…" The Joker trailed off as Harley came into sight.

For what seemed like an eternity, no one said a word. Salvatore, who was seated directly across from the Joker, turned a sick shade of white, which morphed into furious crimson an instant later.

"Harley!" He snarled. "Get out of here. Now."

She could feel her lips quivering with both fear and anticipation. No going back. No going back. All eyes were on her, particularly the black-encased ones that now observed her with biting intensity and curiosity.

To say one could cut the tension with a knife was an understatement. And an ironic one at that, given the audience that held her captive.

It took every ounce of what was left of her courage to utter one word: "No."

Salvatore immediately leapt out of his chair and lunged for her throat but stopped cold when she revealed the knife she had palmed earlier.

"You don't get to touch me ever again." She whispered; her voice was like ice, remnant of years of abuse and betrayal and finally, determined to finish what she had started.

Before either of them could make another move, the Joker's sardonic voice filled the room.

"Well, well, well...Maroni, you never told me were hiding such a little hell-cat…she's got some fight in her…I like that."

Salvatore ignored him, all his energy and fury directed at her. "Harley. You have three seconds to leave this room."

She shook her head furiously, now too scared and overcome with the gravity of the situation to force out any words. Without warning, he backhanded her, causing her to fall nearly head-first into the edge of the table.

The Joker stood up at this sudden action and slowly walked over to the opposite side of the table as he spoke. "Now, now…it seems you don't like to play nice, Maroni. I'm not even going to comment about robbing the cradle...that's just too easy."

He was standing directly over Harley now, watching her carefully as she held her stinging cheek with angry tears in her eyes. "Stand. Up."

She stood shakily, her body still reeling from Salvatore's blow moments before and immediately shrunk back as the Joker leered closer to her. He seemed to stalk towards her, like a lion to its prey, edging closer and closer with each calculated step. Even still, she hardly noticed. Television had no prepared her for seeing him up close and personal. The red, black, and white war paint was smeared with chaos, sweat, and tears. His attire, right down to his purple dress shoes, was freakishly reminiscent of an old-fashioned clown. His curly hair, which fell to the base of his neck in matted disarray, was greased with green paint, completing the unsettling image of psychotic, void of morals and society, serial-killing, knife-wielding clown.

As he edged towards her, with snake-like motions, his face contorted as he surveyed her reaction to him. "Oh…I'm sorry…do I frighten you?"

He smacked his lips together and gestured theatrically to his face with a gloved hand. "Is it the scars?"

Up until that moment, Harley hadn't noticed the scars. Now that he had drawn attention to them, she saw them with horrifying clarity. Ripped from one side to the other, was an eternal, gruesome smile which was only highlighted now by the red paint. The scars looked as if they had been freshly cut, as if the red was not war paint, but blood seeping and smearing across his face.

Without warning, he forced the knife out of her hand. In one swift motion, he gripped the side of her face and positioned the knife dangerously close to the corner of her mouth.

"Do you want to know how I got these scars? Well, you see, I had these friends from school…look at me, Harley…I had these friends from school, we did everything together, spent all our free time together and what we really liked to do…was play with knives. We would steal all the knives we could, from our parents, from the kitchen at school, from stores, anything we could get our hands on. We had this fort in the woods outside of town where we always meet up and one night, we decided to form our own gang. But everyone knows you need to be initiated before you can be part of a gang. So we sat around the fire in a circle and made a pact that we would cut open the left side of our face. We counted down…five…four…three…two…one…I closed my eyes and…" he made a slashing motion with the knife, nearly breaking her skin. "When I opened my eyes, my friends were staring at me…and screaming…you see, I was the only one that had actually had the balls to do it. I couldn't stand the screaming…they sounded like scared little girls…so I took my knife and I. Shut. Them. Up."

He paused there, and leaned away from her face so he could look her more closely in the eye. She was trembling slightly in his grasp but her eyes had never left his the entire time during his story. His eyes widened faintly when her quivering mouth found its voice.

"And…the right side?" she whispered meekly.

His Chelsea grin widened eerily. "It looked uneven…so I evened it out."

Harley swallowed nervously, pushing her fear further down into her throat and lifted up the bottom of her shirt, exposing a hideous, deep red line that ran from just below one side of her ribs to the top of her hip. "Do you want to know how I got this scar?"

His black eyes flicked to her stomach and his brow furrowed in surprise.

She sensed his hesitation and took that as the opportunity she had been looking for.

"About four months ago, my wonderful boyfriend over there came home late one night. Apparently, Batman had had another victory in the war against his 'organization', so Salvatore had good reason to come home completely drunk and madder than hell. So he comes home…I'm already sleeping…he doesn't care and he wakes me up. He starts shaking me and screaming at me to get up. He was nice enough to wait until I got out of bed before he starts to hit me. It was worse this time though than it had ever been before…he starts punching me and tearing at my clothes before I could even realize what he was doing…I couldn't think about anything but the pain and the…baby…it hurt so much…I passed out before it was over. By the time I woke up, I was in an ambulance. They had to perform an emergency C-section but it was too late…"

The entire room was shocked into silence as heads shifted from Harley, to Salvatore, and back to Harley again. No one could muster up a response, not even the Joker, whose face had remained emotionless during Harley's story.

Harley finally saw the moment she had been waiting for. It was now or never.

"You see," she began, her eyes locking with the Joker's. "My options are pretty limited here. If I stay, I'm a dead woman now. He'll never let me live to see another day after this. But you…you're really the one that's in control here. You're really the one who gets to say who lives or who dies. So there are only really three choices for you. You can kill Salvatore. Kill him because he deserves it. Because your own dealings in Gotham will run smoother if he's out of the way. Or…kill me. Put me out of my misery. Take the pleasure of it away from Salvatore and humiliate him by murdering his girlfriend, right here, in front of all his associates to show everyone who really has the power. Or…when you leave here tonight, whether or not you decide to let Salvatore live or die…you can take me with you…"

The Chelsea grin stood dormant for only a moment, then spread wider and wider until his red scars seemed to touch the sinister glaze in his black-rimmed eyes.


End file.
